


An Honest Mistake

by mightbeanasshole



Series: You'll Understand (When You're Older) [6]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Professors, Cock Piercing, Daddy Kink, M/M, Safewords, Sexting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-14 03:52:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10528407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mightbeanasshole/pseuds/mightbeanasshole
Summary: A re-imagining of the relationship between Michael and Geoff as they appear in The Aftermath. After Geoff accidentally sexts the stranger who is set to deliver his liquor order, he's mortified to find out that the man is one of his college students, Michael. When Michael arrives with Geoff's order—and the very incriminating personal text message—he shocks his professor by saying that he wants to know more.





	

_> >If you want it, you’ll have to be a better boy for daddy_

When the text message flashed across the screen of his work phone, Michael nearly ran his shopping cart into a display of Jose Cuervo.

“What the _fuck_ ,” he said under his breath, fumbling to unlock the phone.

A young woman shot him a dirty look over from the vodka aisle. He frowned at her before pulling the cart out of the middle of the aisle and turning away so that no one could see his screen.

He flicked it open and navigated to the text messages. Waiting for him there was the text message that had appeared on the lock screen, along with a photo thumbnail of what appeared to be a hard, pierced cock.

Working as a liquor and grocery delivery driver meant Michael was always glued to the phone, taking new orders, sending text messages to shoppers, and filling out his timesheet on the app. Michael only used it to communicate with customers—and the delivery company had a strict policy about not texting anybody else with the work phones things.

Nobody had the number but his customers. Either someone thought sending a dick pic would be a funny way to fuck with him or a customer had texted him by accident.

He knew he should delete it straightaway.

But as it always did, curiosity got the better of Michael. He tapped the thumbnail.

There was a moment of sexual vertigo as he looked at the unsolicited dick picture someone had texted to him.

 _Leave it to me_ , he thought, _to get turned on in the middle of ABC Liquor by the texting equivalent of a flasher._

Good _God_ it was a nice looking cock, though. It was a nice looking _everything—_ a surprisingly well-framed dick shot. Soft natural light played off a thick metal ring through the flushed tip, a tattooed hand wrapped around a thick, perfectly proportioned erection.

Michael scrolled back up to the message and his body threatened to break out in a cold sweat.

_> >If you want it, you’ll have to be a better boy for daddy_

Michael dragged a hand down the groin of his jeans, fighting the throb of arousal that pulsed through him.

 _Please don’t tell me that I’m capable of being turned on by the word “daddy,”_ he thought angrily at himself. _I’m fucked up enough as it is without goddamn daddy baggage._

Little thought bubbles came up under the message, indicating the person was about to text him again. Michael held his breath.

>> _Oh my god_

_> >Oh my god i am so sorry_

_> >That was NOT meant for you_

_> >Holy shit_

Michael snorted and thought of the fifty different responses he would send if he was on his own private phone.

_> >Ok, but it *could* be meant for me…_

_> >My evening is definitely looking up..._

_> >I could be a good boy for you._

Or even better, Michael thought about what it would be like to excuse himself to the liquor store bathroom, snapping his own picture to send back as proof that there had been no harm done by the accidental dick pic.

Instead, he grimaced and tapped out the type of response that _wouldn’t_ get him fired:

_> >Lol no worries, finishing your order now_

###

_Geoffrey Lazer Ramsey, you are the biggest fuckup on the face of the planet._

Geoff stared in horror at the text message exchange on his phone.

_> >Hi Mr. Ramsey! My name is Michael and I’ll be your Shipt shopper today! I’m at the store about to begin shopping your order. Please let me know if there’s anything else you need!_

_> >Thanks, no changes!_

And then, not even five minutes later:

_> >If you want it, you’ll have to be a better boy for daddy_

_> >[attachment]_

>> _Oh my god_

_> >Oh my god i am so sorry_

_> >That was NOT meant for you_

_> >Holy shit_

_> >Lol no worries, finishing your order now_

If there was a sturdy length of rope anywhere to be found in his Bellingham apartment, Geoff would’ve been desperately Googling a noose tutorial.

This was it. He could never order from the Shipt delivery service again. So much for getting profoundly drunk in his apartment without having to so much as drive anywhere and buy liquor.

_It was fun while it lasted, Shipt._

Christ, he was going to actually have to _see and speak to_ this delivery guy—and from the picture on the Shipt shopper profile, he was goddamned adorable. Honestly, this was the worst case scenario.

The only reason Geoff had even been able to indulge in his admittedly vile and shameful daddy-kink tinged dirty talk was that he’d hooked up online with someone several time zones away for dirty texting. Neither of them wanted anything else out of it, which meant, thank God, he’d never have to actually look someone in the eye who knew his secret.

Except the delivery guy. Because now the Shipt shopper knew _a lot_ about Geoff.

He couldn’t even pretend like it wasn’t a picture of his own cock because of course his hand tattoos had been visible in the picture.

_Awesome. Cool. Killer. I love it when total strangers know about both my pierced cock and my inexplicable fetish. This is a quality Tuesday if there ever was one._

###

Pierced Cock Daddy Guy—and of course, Michael already come to think of him as this, the nickname eclipsing whatever the customer’s real first name had been—was the last delivery Michael needed to make that day.

He hadn’t arranged it that way. It was just the order the customers had happened to come in.

Michael zipped across Bellingham, delivering a case of red wine to a pretty house in a nice neighborhood and a big bottle of vodka to a frat house down the road. That left PCDG and his order.

Michael pulled up to an apartment building he’d driven past before, just a mile or so away from his own apartment near campus. He sat in his car, tapping through screens on the work phone. PCDG’s order was a case of cold PBR and a handle of Old Grandad whiskey.

 _What sort of self-loathing son of a bitch do you have to be to shell out the money for liquor delivery for the most bottom-shelf shit out there?_ Michael wondered.

He pulled up the text messages from the man yet again. There was no way he could get in trouble with work for just looking at an unsolicited text, right? It wasn’t like they could tell how long he’d had the image open or something.

He slumped down in the car, feeling equal parts perverted and thrilled as he opened the picture for the third or fourth time. It really _was_ a pornstar tier cock, and the whole daddy thing was just icing on the cake, wasn’t it?

The whole thing was fifty kinds of intriguing, from the random kink to the tattooed hand to the piercing. Michael had never been with someone who was pierced...

 _Been too long since you were with_ anyone _, full stop,_ he thought to himself, sighing. He had to quit staring at it or he was gonna be hard when he brought the guy’s order up.

 _Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad,_ some part of him thought—the part, he realized, that was clearly responsible for most of his poor decisions. Was there anything pornier and more ridiculous than a delivery driver showing up on someone’s doorstep with a hard-on?

###

When the knock came, Geoff felt like he was about to face a firing squad.

He’d make it as quick as possible. Whiskey in one hand, beer in the other, a simple ‘thanks’ and then he could shut the door, leave the shopper an enormous tip through the app, and then delete Shipt off his phone forever.

Thank God that in a moment he’d have enough whiskey to forget this entire evening.

Geoff unlocked the door, cracked it a foot or so, and reached for the groceries without looking at the guy.

“Thanks,” he said quickly. But something was wrong. The delivery guy wasn’t letting go of the goods.

“ _Geoff?_ Geoff Ramsey?”

Geoff’s heart dropped. It plummeted. It crashed stupendously through the floor and then the apartment floors of the two stories of neighbors beneath him. Standing there, clutching his cheap drinks, was Michael Jones, a senior English major who had been taking classes from Geoff—and making regular appearances in his filthiest sex dreams—for the past two years.

“Michael…”

Michael stepped forward, wedging his sneaker into the door.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Michael said through a dangerous-looking smile.

###

Geoff _fucking_ Ramsey. Michael hadn’t recognized the name because the Shipt app only gave him customers’ last names—and he had no idea that it was _this_ Mr. Ramsey. Christ, how had he not made the connection with the knuckle tattoos?

No, this was too good. His most lusted-after professor had accidentally sent him a dick pic and there was _no chance_ Michael was going to be leaving before they discussed this.

Geoff frowned at him deeply, staring down at the spot where Michael had stepped, making it impossible for Geoff to slam the door in his face.

“What do you say, teach?” he asked, lifting up the case of beer and shaking it a little. “Buy me a beer?”

A neighbor walked behind Michael and he watched Geoff give the man a polite little nod before responding to Michael.

Geoff swallowed hard. “I don’t think so.”

The neighbor was two doors down, fumbling with his keys.

“Come on,” Michael said, his voice just a little louder than it needed to be. “Or do you want me to stay after class tomorrow to discuss this then, _daddy_?”

Geoff’s face twitched visibly and he stepped back. “Would you keep your voice down? Jesus, come inside.”

Michael followed him into the little apartment, hefting the alcohol up on the kitchen bar and then tearing into the cardboard box of beer. Pabst wasn’t his favorite brand, but it would do. Geoff stood across the bar from him, watching him warily.

“Don’t you have some more, uh, deliveries to make, kid?”

Michael grabbed another cold beer out of the package and lobbed it at Geoff who caught it neatly.

“It’s your lucky day, professor. You’re my last stop of the night.”

Geoff groaned, cracked the can of beer, and reached for the bottle of Old Grandad. He’d had a shot glass ready and Michael watched as his professor poured and downed the shot like water, chasing it with big gulps of PBR.

He looked exactly the same way he did in class: slept-in dark hair, sleepy eyes, a sweater rolled to the elbows with his dark tattoo sleeves on display. He groaned and cracked his neck before looking at Michael again.

“So you’re like a real deal self-loathing poet, huh?” Michael asked. “I always thought that was, like, a big show for your classes.”

“Yeah, no, it’s totally an act,” Geoff said, narrowing his eyes at his student. “When I come to class, it’s with a _fashion hangover_ , not a _real_ hangover.”

Michael snorted.

“What do you _want_ , Michael?”

Michael bit his lip and in a smooth movement, he unlocked the phone. Geoff’s hard, pierced cock was still maximized on the screen. He held it up and Geoff blanched.

“I’m just curious about this,” Michael said.

Geoff’s jaw went tight and he dropped his eyes. “Are you gonna blackmail me or what, kid? Cause I gotta say, I’m sure you could find a better target. Look around yourself.”

Geoff’s little studio apartment wasn’t half bad as far as Michael was concerned. It was tiny but nicely furnished, big framed band posters on the walls, a mattress on a low slat bed, and piles of books as far as the eye could see. For somebody in their thirties, it wasn’t _great_ but it was definitely more of a grownup apartment than Michael’s place.

There was also, Michael noted, no sign of there being another man in the apartment. No pictures of Geoff with somebody, no extra set of keys on the counter...

“Or is it a grades thing?” Geoff guessed. “Because you’re already making an A in my class and—”

“I wouldn’t blackmail you, Jesus,” Michael said. “Just, don’t you think it would be better for us to discuss this instead of trying to finish the semester pretending like it never happened?”

“Absolutely not. I like the pretending idea. Can we go back to the pretending idea?”

Geoff’s voice was thick—the alcohol must have kicked in.

Michael was far too sober for what he was about to propose. He swung around to join Geoff on the other side of the counter, sweeping the shot glass up and pouring his own shot of bottom-shelf whiskey. When he swallowed, he knew it was far less graceful than Geoff’s movements had been, but it got the job done. It burned all the way down and he chased it quickly with what was left of his cheap beer.

“Tell me more about whoever it is that calls you _daddy_ ,” Michael said. He was close enough to Geoff in the little kitchen to count his eyelashes.

“It was an honest mistake,” Geoff said, taking a step back.

“Fair enough, but if that text was meant for someone you’re exclusive with,” Michael said, taking a step forward and closing the distance between them again, “I’ll get lost.”

###

Michael was giving him an out.

Geoff could lie, could say yes, he and the random internet dude were exclusive— _very_ exclusive, _so_ exclusive, _exclusive like you wouldn’t believe, Michael, so yes, please, get out of my apartment and I can add this evening to the ever-expanding list of reasons why I detest myself._

“He’s just someone from the internet,” Geoff said, every rational part of himself screaming at him. “We text.”

“And what’s with the _daddy_ thing?” Michael asked.

Hearing the word drop again from Michael’s mouth was simultaneously one of the best and worst moments of Geoff’s life thus far.

 _This is some next-level fantasy shit that I am_ not _prepared for._

“Honestly couldn’t tell you,” Geoff said, swallowing hard again, painfully aware of the proximity of Michael’s body.

“So, it’s not something you two _meet up_ to do?”

Geoff snorted. “I don’t think I could bring myself to say it out loud in real life.”

Michael wet his bottom lip, his eyes lingering on Geoff’s lips for a beat before he spoke again.

“You won’t know that until you try it,” Michael said through a smile that had all of the blood in Geoff’s body re-routing itself.

Geoff saw it happening. He had enough time and wherewithal to stop it. But as Michael leaned forward to kiss him, Geoff didn’t push him away. He didn’t step to the side so that Michael got a face full of kitchen wall.

Instead, he made the worst _possible_ decision. He buried his fist in the fabric of the neon green Shipt polo Michael was wearing and pulled his student forward, meeting him in the middle for a searing, completely ill-advised kiss.

When was the last time _anyone_ had come onto Geoff so hard and fast? Had it _ever_ happened? It was beyond reason that his dry spell would be broken by Michael, one of his brightest students at Coastal. Students had come and gone from Geoff’s fantasies but Michael—with his big brown eyes and smart mouth—was someone he knew was going to exist in his imagination longer than anyone else.

Michael was narrow and perfect in between his hands and Geoff realized just a moment too late that he was gripping his student too tight by the waist. Michael didn’t seem to mind, setting a demanding pace for the kiss, his mouth hot and slick with the sharp aftertaste of cheap whiskey.

 _This feels more like a fever dream than a hookup,_ Geoff realized.

Michael ground against him and groaned into his mouth, suddenly disengaging but not stepping away.

“I want to see the real thing,” Michael said, his voice going rough. He dragged a hand down the front of Geoff’s jeans and Geoff moaned in spite of himself. “I want to be a good boy for you.”

Geoff caught him by the wrist, stilling him, wanting them to talk before they did anything else. Instead of stopping, though, Michael caught his mouth in a kiss again.

God, it was like trying to resist a river current that threatened to drag him down. If Michael was this pushy now, what on _earth_ would he be like in bed? The way he kissed into Geoff made him want to hitch Michael up by the thighs and plant him on the counter, throw him on the bed. _Christ_ was he ready to make some mistakes.

Geoff forced himself to break their kiss.

“If you want me I’m… probably not going to say no—”

Michael snorted and Geoff held his free hand to stop him from interrupting.

“But we shouldn’t do the other part. I can’t afford to start paying your therapy bills.”

“Oh hell no,” Michael said, holding Geoff by the hips and grinding against him. “You’re not gonna awaken some weird daddy shit with me and then _not_ satisfy my curiosity here.”

###

Geoff examined him for a moment, searching Michael’s face for something.

“You’re not fucking with me? That doesn’t turn you off?”

Michael laughed in disbelief and leaned in to kiss Geoff again, to press him against the wall. He moved fast, kissing the skin along Geoff’s jaw, enjoying the scrape of his stubble before moving lower on his neck. Geoff let out a gravelly noise at the contact and Michael pressed the lengths of their bodies together.

“That text message was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, inches from Geoff’s ear. “Your cock is nice and all, but it wasn’t the only part of the text that gave me a hard-on in the middle of ABC fucking Liquor, Geoff.”

He moved lower, worrying the skin on Geoff’s neck between his teeth, enjoying the way Geoff was straining for him, his breath hitching.

“So no,” Michael continued. “None of that turns me off, _daddy._ ”

Geoff shuddered, pulling Michael closer for a moment, stroking Michaels back and arching his neck so that Michael could give it one last kiss. Geoff held him by the hips then, forcing him to step back and look him in the face.

He looked Michael up and down as he bit his own lip, making a decision, maybe. Finally, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“I can’t believe I’m having this conversation,” Geoff said, massaging the bridge of his nose. “What do you know about safe words, Michael?”

Michael snorted. “What, as in, I say _cardamom pods_ and you stop?”

Geoff rolled his eyes. “No. As in, we don’t know each other and—”

“We’ve known each other two years—”

“In the context of a _classroom_ ,” Geoff said, cutting him off. “We _don’t_ know each other like this. So, safewords are important. If I ask you how you’re doing, ‘green’ means good, ‘yellow’ means ‘I need a break,’ and ‘red’ means stop.”

“Or I could, y’know, tell you to stop.”

Geoff nodded. “Yeah. You could do that too. But if I ask, just give me a color. Can you trust me on this?”

“Sure. You got it,” Michael said, hitching his shoulder. “I don’t really get why we need to go to all the trouble of—”

Before he could finish the thought, Geoff had a tight grip on his wrist, his other hand on Michael’s hip, and with a movement that was surprisingly smooth and fast, Geoff had moved them so their positions were reversed and Michael found his back pressed against the kitchen wall.

Geoff leaned his bulk into Michael, pressing some of the air out of his lungs.  

“Because, baby, you’ve been anything _but_ a good boy since you walked through my door,” Geoff said, his voice deeper, rougher. “Color?”

If he hadn’t been turned on by the rough handling, Geoff’s words would’ve been enough to get him hard as a rock.

“Green,” Michael said. “Extremely fucking green.”

Geoff made a disappointed noise in the back of his throat. “ _Language,_ Michael. Is that any way to talk to your daddy?”

Michael throbbed against the front of his jeans. He was beginning to understand the game now.

“No,” he said.

“No _what?_ ”

“No, sir.”

“Mm,” Geoff hummed. “Good boy.”

Geoff kissed him again then as if to reward him, easing his weight off a bit but keeping a tight grip around Michael’s wrist. The kiss was different—more tender—and as Michael found himself leaning into the larger man, craving a kiss that wouldn’t end, he knew instantly that Geoff was now in control.

Michael had talked a big game, showing up and seducing his professor, using the text as leverage. But ultimately _this_ was what he wanted. In his mind, Michael gave himself over completely.

As if Geoff somehow knew the negotiation going on inside of his student’s brain, he took Michael by the backs of the thighs and hitched him up off the ground. He was stronger than Michael would’ve imagined. Michael looped his legs around Geoff’s hips and Geoff pressed him into the wall again.

The kiss was gentle and sweet. The pressure of Geoff’s body was anything but.

After a moment, Geoff stepped back, turning and carrying Michael towards the bed.

 _This can't really be happening,_ Michael thought.

The man carrying him like he weighed nothing, who had just hitched him up with tattooed hands digging into Michael’s thighs—that couldn’t possibly be his professor.

He couldn’t possibly the same man who showed up for lectures looking hungover, who caught flack from the faculty for his growing collection of tattoos, who chugged tepid black coffee in morning classes like it was water.

There was no time for Michael’s mind to stop reeling, though, because Geoff Ramsey, the man who had been lecturing him twice a week for the past four semesters—and one summer semester, not that it mattered— _Professor_ Ramsey was walking them both toward his low bed as he pressed searing kisses against Michael’s mouth.

###

_This can’t really be happening._

Stuff like this didn’t happen outside of Geoff’s wildest, most improbable sex dreams—and even then, in his dreaming mind, Geoff was always the one who had to make the first move.

He’d had dreams about Michael before, sure, and more than a few lurid masturbation fantasies. But it hadn’t occurred to him that _Michael_ might be the one to instigate something like this.

There was a quality that was oddly _right_ about the weight of Michael in his hands, the heft of him. His student wasn't a small man—though he was narrower than Geoff. Still, it was easy to carry him from the kitchen to the bed inside of Geoff's little efficiency apartment.

Geoff dropped him too hard onto the bed and was ready to apologize—but Michael didn’t seem to mind. He laughed softly and kicked off his shoes. Maybe Michael _wanted_ it a little rough. He was going to give Michael whatever he wanted, he knew at least that much.

Geoff was quick to join him on the bed, stilling Michael's hands where he'd moved to start undressed himself. "Let me."

Michael nodded and watched Geoff with a placid smile as he moved to the hem of Michael's uniform shirt. It was taking real effort to keep his hands from shaking. It had been so long since Geoff had been with anyone like this—so sexy and desirable and _wrong_ on so many levels—and the room was so bright. It still felt impossible that Michael wanted him. Geoff’s blood roared in his ears as a diamond-hard erection pressed against his fly.

Geoff inched Michael’s shirt up, revealing a strip of perfect, pale skin. Michael's belly was exactly like it was when it appeared in Geoff's imagination: soft and smooth, the hair fine and nearly invisible. Geoff kissed the newly exposed skin and Michael hummed low into the air above him.

He raked the shirt higher until Michael was moving, eager to get the garment off. This time Geoff didn't stop him, allowing Michael to hook the shirt up and off—and then it was gone, discarded on the floor next to them, and exposing so much new, beautiful skin to be explored.

###

Geoff moved slowly with a sort of reverence that Michael hadn’t expected. He'd been mentally prepared for a fast and dirty hookup, not this slow mapping of his skin that Geoff was engaging in. The older man moved slowly, kissing up the middle of his body. It was maddening when he finally reached one of Michael's nipples and lapped against it. The sensation was electric and sent a shiver through his body.

He wanted _more_ from Geoff and he arched up against him.

"Want you so bad, daddy," he said—and the words didn't feel silly anymore.

"Mm, baby," Geoff said, closing his eyes as if to savor Michael's words. "I need you to be patient for me. Can you do that? Can you be a good boy for me?"

"I'll try," Michael said, fighting the urge to pout, to demand more—and at the same time wondering what might happen if he pushed the boundaries instead.

 _There's plenty of time for that_ , he told himself, deciding to obey Geoff for now.

Geoff ran a hand through his hair in a movement that felt somehow familiar and then kissed him again. Their union was slow and steady and oddly sweet, but by the end Michael was grinding up against his body again, needing friction, needing _more_.

"I need you," Michael said, his voice squeaking a little.

"I know, baby. I'm going to take care of you." Finally, Geoff placed a heavy hand over Michael's groin, pressing against his desperate erection. Michael groaned. The stimulation should've helped him feel some relief, but instead, Michael found himself increasingly desperate and strung out for more.

###

Michael was so impossibly responsive, so much more vocal and simply _into it_ than Geoff would've ever dared to dream. He squirmed under Geoff on the bed, arching into him, his breath hitching and cheeks flushing. Maybe in another lifetime, Geoff would've dragged this moment out forever. But he didn't know enough about Michael yet—at least not this version of Michael, blushing and moaning in Geoff's bed—to understand whether or not he'd get off on teasing.

And Geoff desperately wanted to satisfy Michael. He wouldn't take the risk of dragging it out too long.

But God was it tempting. Michael was a picture of perfection, all spare, lean muscles and unblemished stretches of skin. He was like a goddamned marble sculpture and given enough time, Geoff knew that he would look back on this moment with a poetic reverie.

As soon as they were done there that day, Geoff would start romanticizing the encounter, building it up into a hazy fever dream so erotic and perfect that he could never possibly experience something like it again.

_Jesus, Ramsey, could you please stop beating yourself up about something that hasn’t even happened yet and enjoy the moment?_

He did his best to memorize the sight of Michael Jones in his bed and got back to work, dragging his palm across Michael’s groin.

###

Michael didn’t give Geoff the chance to take his time with undressing him further. As soon as Geoff gave him the room, Michael had his belt unhooked. Geoff snorted and gave him an amused look as he shimmied out of his jeans.

He expected Geoff to resume whatever trajectory he’d been on the moment Michael was naked. Instead, Geoff sat back on his heels, smiling but fully clothed, looking Michael over. Even though Michael had been the one to undress himself, he felt suddenly insecure. Maybe he shouldn’t have disrobed so quickly or—

“Just beautiful,” Geoff said softly, as if he was alone and talking to himself. He shook his head and then returned to Michael, holding him by the waist, kissing across the sling of his hipbones, sliding his tongue against one side of the deep “V.”

“You’re beautiful, baby,” he repeated into the sensitive skin of one of Michael’s thighs. Michael sighed with relief, his cock bobbing in the air as if announcing his need to be touched.

Geoff wasted no time after that, holding Michael by the base as if he’d done it a hundred times and sinking his mouth over Michael.

The sight of it was like something out of Michael’s bored lecture fantasies: Geoff’s tattooed hand providing a sharp visual contrast against Michael’s pale skin, his face flushed and eyebrows knit in concentration.

But the _feeling_ of it—well, the sight of Geoff sucking his cock was nothing compared to how incredible it felt.

Geoff painted patterns on him with his tongue, rolling the hard ball of his tongue piercing over every ridge and plane of Michael’s hard-on.

Michael had remembered the piercing with a jolt the first time Geoff had kissed him a few minutes ago. Freshmen were the only students who made a big deal about Professor Ramsey’s tongue piercing. Older students like Michael pretended like they weren’t intrigued by the thing. They had to maintain their casual aloofness, of course, and it wasn’t like they’d never seen a pierced tongue before.

But Michael had never kissed someone with a tongue piercing and he’d _definitely_ never gotten head with the added accessory.

Geoff was good at what he was doing, stroking around him with his hand, his lips, his tongue—but the way he moved that piercing over Michael’s skin seemed to elevate sucking cock to an art.

Geoff took him deeper and deeper until Michael was arching up off the bed—and Geoff _let him,_ humming and swallowing around him.

 _Christ, this is the **only** thing I’m ever going to think about in class from now on,_ Michael realized. It was bad enough having a hot professor and exponentially worse having a hot professor that you know for a fact doesn’t have a gag reflex.

But then Geoff was pulling off and sitting back to look Michael in the eye. Michael moaned, heartbroken at losing the slick heat of his mouth.

“Baby, are you OK?” Geoff asked, looking serious.

Only then did Michael realize he’d gone completely silent. “Shit, I’m sorry, it’s _great_ , I—I mean, I love it, daddy—”

Geoff cringed at the name this time as if it had suddenly stopped being fun for him.

“I’m sorry, I know I’m fucking this up—”

Geoff shook his head. “It’s not that. I don’t know if you’re getting it.”

“What do you mean?”

Michael sat up, getting closer to Geoff in the bed and partially shielding himself. Whatever momentum they’d had going, Michael had definitely just blown it.

Geoff gave a half shrug. “It’s supposed to be more than just saying the words.”

That was news to Michael. Was he supposed to, what, use baby talk in bed? That would be a hard stop. And then what? Would Geoff still want him if he didn’t want to play the game anymore?

“What else am I supposed to do?” Michael asked.

“Just let it all go, baby,” Geoff said in a soothing voice. “Everything you walked in here with in your head—school, your job, whatever—leave it behind. It’s not just fooling around and calling each other pet names. This is supposed to be something safe for both of us. Do you still want it, if that’s what it is?”

Calling Geoff _daddy,_ being called a good boy—that was enough for Michael. But there was something about the earnest way Geoff was looking at him now that made Michael want whatever Geoff had to offer.

Michael nodded slowly. “Yeah. I think I’d like that.”

Geoff put his palm in the center of Michael’s bare chest, drawing a deep breath as if to encourage Michael to follow his lead. It only took a minute to start breathing in time with Geoff.

“There it is,” Geoff said with a placid smile. “Attaboy.”

He kissed Michael again, his mouth hot and fluid and familiar now, and at the same time Geoff moved his hand to ghost over the front of Michael’s throat. The movement was possessive. The thought sent a thrill down Michael’s spine. Would Geoff ever want to _possess_ him? Would he even want _this_ if Michael hadn’t pushed it on him?

The hand went stiffer on his neck and Geoff forced his chin up so that Michael was looking at him.

“Now what did I just say, baby?” Geoff asked sternly.

“You said I had to let go, daddy.”

Something flickered in Geoff’s eyes and he frowned. “Color, Michael.”

“Yellow.”

In an instant, Geoff was backing off, putting space between them, and Michael moved to follow him.

“I don’t mean to stop, I just—”

“What, then?” Geoff asked.

“Just…”

###

A cold rush of panic flooded Geoff’s chest when he heard _yellow_. He’d finally crossed a line—and though Michael’s face still looked placid and open, something was obviously wrong.

“Just what?” Geoff asked, keeping his voice gentle.

“Geoff, did I force myself on you?”

Geoff barked a laugh. “Is that a joke? This is like my porniest wet dream come to life.”

Michael’s smile was back at that, erasing the anxiety from Geoff’s mind that he had done something wrong.

 _He’s like a beacon,_ Geoff thinks. _Like a goddamn lighthouse._

And then just as quickly, his smile was gone.

“If I hadn’t come onto you, would you still want me?”

“Absolutely,” Geoff said without hesitation.

“And if I didn’t want to do this daddy thing, you’d still want me?”

“Yes. I would,” Geoff said. “We can drop that part of it right now if you want and keep going.”

Michael tucked his chin and seemed to think that over.

“I don’t think I want to,” Michael said. “I think I want to keep going just like this. I was just scared that maybe you didn’t want me… and I couldn’t clear my mind.”

“That’s ok, baby,” Geoff said quietly.

“I don’t know what to do,” Michael said, sounding awfully young. He looked at Geoff with his big brown doe eyes, like something out of a cartoon. “Would you teach me, daddy?”

Geoff stifled a shudder and nodded. Something kicked alive inside of him at the words. He could feel that part of himself coming back—the piece that was fully committed to the scene, to being a daddy for his perfect boy.

And _that_ piece of him had a very tempting idea.

“There are other ways to get your head into it, if that’s what you want,” Geoff said.

###

It was easy for someone to say, “Clear your mind.”

Making it happen in reality was something entirely different.

Once Michael had let his anxieties and hangups intrude on the moment, he couldn’t figure out a way to kick the thoughts out of his head. It was something that happened sometimes in class, when he was driving, and when he was trying to sleep.

He’d never been able to figure out how, exactly, to quiet the thoughts and the doubts. So when Geoff offered another way to _clear his mind_ , Michael was eager to try it.

The word "spanking," once it had been uttered between them, had the same quality as the words "daddy" and "good boy"—silly at first but in the same moment, deeply erotic.

How had Michael gotten so long in his life, he wondered, without considering everything that had landed in his lap today? Geoff suggested spanking—asked if Michael wanted to try it. Michael blushed, dropped his eyes, and nodded.

He turned, acutely aware of his nakedness, and flipped to his belly, assuming that Geoff would want him on all fours.

"No baby," Geoff said gently. "I want you to relax. It's not a punishment. I just want you to lie down."

"I don't see how that's going to—"

Geoff stopped him with one disapproving look.

"Are you going to trust me or do you _want_ to be punished?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Sorry. Yes. I trust you." Michael did as he was told, lying on his back and waiting patiently to understand how Geoff could possibly get access to his ass like this. Geoff reached for his ankles, pinning them together and then lifting them—and immediately, Michael had his answer. He reached to hold his calves, to lift himself higher in the air, but Geoff just batted his hands away.

"Don't worry about it. Just relax."

Geoff moved him around until he had Michael exactly how he wanted him, with Michael's knees resting against the back of Geoff’s shoulder, his ankles crossed and ass hitched into the air. He felt incredibly exposed, especially because he couldn't see what Geoff was doing on the other side of his body.

"Deep breaths," Geoff said softly.

Michael wondered how the hell this was supposed to help him empty his mind. As it stood, his anxiety was spiraling faster and farther than it had before. He wondered if the whole thing was going to hurt more than he could take, what would happen if he safeworded and stopped the whole thing, whether or not—

The slap against his ass seemed to come from nowhere. Michael hadn't noticed Geoff's posture changing as he wound up to hit his skin. Michael sucked a harsh breath at the surprise, whimpering at the impact. The pain was sharp and dazzling.

"Baby, give me a color."

"Green," Michael said, even as his heartrate skyrocketed. "Do it again."

Michael watched the back of Geoff's head as he nodded.

"We'll do five more and then I'll check in with you again," Geoff said. "If you want me to stop, just say so."

"Ok, daddy," Michael said, the word slipping out without warning.

The next slap came harder and against his other cheek. And then another, the third spanking, on the first cheek.

Each impact stung and seemed to leave his ears ringing, as if the sound of the slap was ear-shattering.

Everything in Michael's word shrank down into laser focus. There was just Geoff, holding him up, striking him just hard enough to make it hurt, taking those deep, even breaths. There was nothing in the world but the two of them, but Geoff's palm against his ass.

By the time Geoff finished the next round, Michael had lost count of how many slaps he'd received.

And then he understood what Geoff had been saying.

The exposure, the sharp slaps, the pain—it had wrung everything out of his mind.

He had no fears, no anxiety. In some ways, he felt miles away from himself, even while in the same moment he was more physically present in his own body than maybe he'd ever been before.

Michael was feeling the moment, unfiltered and unguarded, and it was like nothing he'd ever felt before. It was exhilarating.

"Still green?" Geoff asked.

This time Geoff looked over his shoulder to see Michael's face. Michael nodded— _still green_.

"More?"

Michael nodded again and he realized that he'd slipped so far away from himself that he almost didn't want to break that trance with words.

Geoff didn't seem to mind, maybe sensing that Michael needed Geoff to talk for him for the time being.

"Five more, then," he said.

###

The whole daddy thing was new for Geoff when it came to real-life hookups, but spanking was well-trod territory for him. He'd been on the giving and the receiving end plenty of times, and he knew there was often nothing more effective at helping someone find subspace than a little impact play.

Maybe it was dumb to take someone like Michael from zero to sixty all in one session, but Geoff knew that unless he found that sweet space where ego and anxiety were gone, it would be impossible for Michael to enjoy their time together like he deserved to.

When he looked back at Michael after he'd delivered the sixth swat, Geoff knew that he'd been right to take the risk.

Michael looked dopey and serene—not drunk or glassy but simply happy, satisfied in that moment between them.

He couldn't tell for sure that Michael had discovered the sweetness of subspace, but he would've been willing to wager an entire paycheck that Michael _had_ , just from the look on his face, from the fact that he didn't seem to want to talk anymore.

When Michael asked for more, Geoff returned to his task. It was almost too easy to hold Michael like this, hitching him up off the bed and completely exposing him. His pale skin had turned to a rosy pink as Geoff delivered the blows. He struck Michael much lighter than he would've with someone who was experienced. He only wanted to help Michael get past his anxiety—not make him sore. Luckily, Michael had performed beautifully, going pliant under the slaps.

Geoff continued, timing the slaps so that they were unpredictable but not cruel, and he watched as the blushing skin blossomed to a deeper pink. The contrast between Michael's pale thighs and the round spots of deep pink on his ass was like something from an abstract painting, color fields that were half pastoral landscape, half expression of passion.

###

After Geoff had counted out ten more slaps and Michael had drifted far away from himself, Geoff kept him propped up with his legs held behind one of Geoff’s shoulders.

“You did so good, baby,” he murmured. Geoff held him by the ankles again, moving so that he was facing Michael and kneeling on the bed. He kissed the inside of one of Michael’s knees tenderly. “You’re so good when your daddy asks you to do something.”

He kissed and stroked up and down the lengths of Michael’s thighs until finally he drew his fingertips over the punished skin of his ass. Michael didn’t feel exposed anymore. As if some switch had been flipped in his mind, he felt safe and cared for.

As Geoff lowered his legs and rolled him to his belly, Michael realized that he’d never been with _anyone_ who had made him feel quite as cared for and attended to as Geoff did.

_And we haven’t even had sex._

Michael let Geoff control what happened without trying to look at him or guess what his next move would be. It was good to know, in the back of his mind, that he could simply say “yellow” or “red” and Geoff would respond immediately, stopping their progress entirely or at least long enough to make sure Michael was ok. He could hardly believe that at the beginning of their interaction, he’d balked at the idea of using safe words.

 _That feels like a lifetime ago,_ he thought, remembering posturing in the kitchen as if it had happened last week, not just a few minutes ago. Michael had been so uncertain then. It was remarkable how fast things between them had changed. Geoff was very good at what he did, and Michael was happy in that moment to be good for him, to do whatever Geoff wanted.

The older man rubbed his back and kissed down the base of his spine. Michael let himself drift. He was nothing but nerve endings and sore muscles being kneaded under Geoff’s hands.

Michael came back to himself abruptly, though, when Geoff’s weight shifted lower on the bed. Gently, he parted Michael’s cheeks and pressed a kiss just above his entrance. Michael bucked and groaned, his reactions totally unfiltered.

"Is this ok, baby?" Geoff managed to ask the question in a tone that had Michael's heart fluttering instead of being condescending.

"You don't have to," Michael answered quickly.

Geoff's warm hand was on his back in an instant, rubbing circles.

"I know I don't have to. That's not what I asked. I'm asking for permission," he said. He kissed the base of Michael's spine again and then moved lower, licking a short stripe down between the cleft of Michael's cheeks. Michael gasped.

"So, may I?" Geoff asked again.

"Yeah, yes," Michael breathed out. He felt pinned between eager anticipation and the odd bubble of embarrassment at being so exposed.

"What's that?" Geoff asked, his voice taking on an edge.

"Yes sir," Michael said quickly, remembering his place. "Yes, daddy."

Geoff let out a pleased hum that broke open into a moan as he squeezed Michael's thigh and moved lower.

Michael had never been with someone who wanted to eat him out. Well, strike that. Of his handful of partners, a few had tried but none had insisted. Sometimes they'd make a little effort—and sure, it felt good. But Michael could never get over the way that he felt so _exposed_ in the moment and he'd always pressed them to move forward, on to some other sort of foreplay or fucking.

But it wasn't like that with Geoff.

The man had just held him by the ankles and spanked him. Michael was calling him _daddy_ for christsakes. If there was anything left to get hung up about, Michael wasn't about to let it get in the way of how much he was enjoying himself in that moment.

Michael made the conscious decision to be nothing but _Geoff's good boy_ for the duration of their time together. It felt good to surrender, to give up the parts of himself that made him a responsible adult but that also made him worried and neurotic and stressed and tired.

And Geoff was such a capable caretaker. He seemed to anticipate Michael's needs in a way that no one had before—not even the one long-term boyfriend Michael had in his college career. Sure, his boyfriend had known his way around Michael's body by the end—but he had never shown such a keen understanding of exactly what Michael needed to let go of and how his body needed to be cared for.

As Geoff circled his entrance, Michael groaned but didn't arch off the bed, didn't push back or act impatient. He relaxed into the moment—and it was a perfect one. Geoff seemed to want to kiss and lick every part of him—to dote on every square inch of skin that he came across.

He teased Michael with gentle kisses for what felt like ages until finally—finally—he drew a slick, hot stripe from the base of Michael's balls to the tip of his spine, moving impossibly slow.

It took Michael a moment to realize that the whining sound in the room was coming from him.

"Good?" Geoff asked—and the smile on his face was clear just from the tone of his voice.

"Fuck, daddy," Michael said, the words falling from his mouth so naturally now.

"What did I tell you?" Geoff asked. "All you had to do was let go and let me take care of you."

"It's so good."

Geoff hummed, pleased, and continued. He drew concentric circles on Michael's ass, smaller and smaller, until he was just tracing his entrance, teasing. It was maddening and it felt better than Michael had ever dreamed. Maybe he'd been wrong to always cut rimming short and move on.

 _I could come just like this_ , Michael realized. He rolled his hips against the mattress, desperate for friction.

"You need it so bad, don't you baby?" Geoff asked, noticing the movement. He gripped Michael's hip and held it still.

"I need it," Michael said. "It's so good."

"You're a good boy, but you'll have to be more patient than that," Geoff said. "Can you try for me?"

"Yeah, I—yes," Michael said, not exactly sure how the moment was supposed to play out. "I want to make you happy. I want to be good for you."

Geoff groaned loud enough that Michael _had_ to see his face. He hitched himself up on one elbow and craned his neck to see the man behind him.

"You _are_ making me happy," Geoff said with a smile.

He looked perfect there, his face flushed from effort and arousal, dark hair askew.

He'd been taking tender care with Michael—and that was fine—but it still felt as if something was missing. Geoff was still almost fully clothed.

"Geoff you let me touch you?" Michael asked.

"Is that what you want?"

Michael just nodded.

Geoff pushed backward and nodded slowly. "I won't make you wait for it any more. At least not that part."

###

Geoff wondered if his student had any goddamned idea how much hearing the words "I want to be good for you," had turned him on. He was about to feel firsthand evidence of it, either way, because Michael had moved to undress him.

He wondered what his student saw when he looked at Geoff. Did he _like_ Geoff’s tattoos, or did college students not think tattoos were cool anymore?

From the way that Michael eagerly undressed him, it was clear that his student wasn’t judging his body. At least not in a negative way. Michael kissed him and then moved lower, tracing the outlines of his tattoos with his mouth even as his hands fumbled on Geoff’s belt. It was only a minute until Michael had shucked off all of his clothes and thrown them on the floor. Everything but his boxer briefs.

Eager and smiling, Michael guided him to the edge of the bed. He kneeled and spread Geoff’s thighs. Geoff groaned as Michael used his mouth to trace the shape of his cock through the soft fabric. He could feel Michael’s breath through the garment and had to stop himself from hitching up, pressing into his mouth.

Geoff had set aside his own needs so far, concentrating on Michael. But this brought him back to himself. Michael finally hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his briefs and dragged them off. Then he sat back on his heels, a smile on his face.

###

It was ironic, Michael thought, that Geoff’s thick, pierced cock had taken so long to come into play between them—especially considering the fact that the sight of it was what had started this whole thing.

His hard-on was just as nice in real life as it had been in the picture. It seemed a shame to move on too fast without taking a moment to admire it.

"I've been thinking about this since I got that message," Michael said, holding him gently by the base. With his other hand, he reached out to run a fingertip gingerly over the ring. "Does it hurt?"

Geoff shook his head. "It's been there for a long time. It'd take more than a healed piercing to hurt me."

###

Michael's face looked almost reverent as he handled Geoff, gently at first and then more confidently. Still holding him by the base, Michael gently twirled the ring. Geoff let out a satisfied sigh. The piercing was long-healed and the slight friction and tug of the smooth jewelry being moved around was a singular, wonderful sensation—unlike touching Geoff in any other way and completely unexpected. The novelty and pleasure of the piercing had never worn off.

Geoff thanked his lucky stars that Michael was intrigued by it instead of turned off. More than one person had turned their nose up at the thick ring.

Michael wasn't satisfied by playing with the jewelry for long, though. Geoff looked on with unbridled lust as Michael leaned in, dipping his head in a movement that almost looked like he was about to pray. Instead, the tip of Michael's tongue appeared between his lips and he lapped against the jewelry and Geoff's slit, tasting him.

Geoff groaned and squeezed his fists into the fabric of his comforter as if it was the only thing mooring him to reality.

Once Michael had savored the taste of him for a moment, he sat back on his heels and looked up. He was cherubic and looked startlingly young in a way that made Geoff's heart want to beat out of his chest in equal parts panic and arousal.

"Was that good, daddy?"

Did he have any idea what effect the words had on Geoff? Could he possibly know the deep itch that the scene was scratching for his professor?

It was perfect and incomparable and even though Geoff was supposed to be taking care of Michael, his student was giving Geoff everything he'd been missing.

 _Everything you've been missing in bed_ , he chided himself immediately. Already he was assigning more meaning to the transaction than he ought to.

"Perfect," Geoff said. He reached out and laced his fingers through Michael's hair. "You're my perfect boy."

Michael's smile cracked open at that, like he couldn't contain himself, and he leaned in again. This time he took Geoff into his mouth, piercing and all.

"Slow, slow," Geoff said, holding him by the back of the neck, trying to ease some of the urgency out of Michael.

Michael looked up at him with worried eyes but swallowed around him, apparently undeterred. Geoff grabbed the back of his neck harder. He looked incredible like that.

Michael's mouth was hot and slick and the sensation was altogether almost too much to bear. Michael kept at work, shutting his eyes. Geoff hadn't noticed his eyelashes until that moment but they caught in the dying daylight and blazed a golden color that matched his freckles.

Geoff was dumb enough to hook up with his own student and here he was waxing poetical about his cherubic freckles.

 _Jesus you need a life, Ramsey_.

But just as Geoff had urged Michael to clear his mind, he urged his own mind in that moment to go clear—to let go of his own hangups and know that the only important thing in that moment was the happiness of his boy, the way the scene continued.

"That's so perfect, baby," Geoff said.

###

Michael had only wanted to return some of the favor. He hadn't considered the possibility that _he_ could get off on this part, too.

Geoff's cock was perfect—but the _real_ attraction in that moment was the praise that had begun to fall from Geoff's lips.

He leaned back on the bed and stopped trying to guide Michael. Instead, he called Michael his good boy, his perfect boy, and in a voice that had gone suddenly ragged, Geoff was telling him all of the ways he was the best.

"This feels so good, baby," Geoff said. "Oh my God, you're the best baby—that's my boy. Oh God Michael—"

Finally, though, Geoff took the reins again. He pushed Michael away gently by the shoulders and then held him there. Michael waited for him to say something but instead Geoff sat with his mouth fallen open, staring into Michael's face, looking like words were on the tip of his tongue but somehow escaping him.

"Was that ok?" Michael asked, suddenly insecure under Geoff's gaze.

Geoff sighed and shook his head as if coming out of a dream.

"You're absolutely beautiful—did you know that?" Geoff asked, a dopey smile spreading across his face.

Something tugged in Michael's chest. He'd seen Geoff making jokes, he’d seen Geoff go white-hot with anger, and he'd seen the man in intense concentration, but he'd never seen his professor like _this_. Unguarded and open and... happy, maybe.

A sensation blossomed irrationally across the insides of Michael's chest, like lightning in slow motion, reaching out and illuminating spots inside of him that he didn't know existed.

 _Guy calls you goodlooking and you lose your goddamn mind,_ Michael thought wryly to himself.

Michael was pulled out of the moment—but only for a second. All it took was Geoff threading his hand through Michael's hair, pushing it back from his forehead, before Michael was back into the scene. He'd almost forgotten that he was _Geoff's_ good boy—not some asshole college student who had forced his way into a tryst with his professor.

Belonging to Geoff, even just for a little while, was far too good to squander with self-deprecating thoughts. Michael leaned into the hand and Geoff lowered it, cupping his cheek.

"You're just perfect, baby," Geoff said.

Geoff leaned down and Michael got higher on his knees, meeting Geoff in the middle—and this time there was something decidedly different about their kiss.

It wasn't urgent or hungry—not just a random collision of two wanting mouths. But it wasn’t pure sweetness, either.

As they came together this time, the kiss between them was steady—something well-considered and even that implied the two of them would have all the time in the world together. Something in the kiss seemed to be a promise of not only today but tomorrow, the next day...

When they broke for air, they stayed close, forehead to forehead. Michael realized he'd looped his hands behind Geoff's neck and was holding on for dear life. Geoff's hands were in his hair, on his neck, slowly caressing every part within reach but keeping him close.

They met eyes. It felt like the first time.

Naked and alone together in Geoff's warm apartment, after knowing each other for years and sharing classrooms for months, after discussion paper topics and arguing over extra credit, it was as if in that moment the two of them were seeing each other for the first time.

###

Had Michael felt that too?

He certainly _seemed_ to.

It was as if something silent and monumental had shifted—not only between them but in the atmosphere, in the earth.

 _You're so turned on, you probably had a seizure_ , Geoff thought.

Geoff dropped his eyes and attempted to catch his breath, to quiet the desperate dance his heart was suddenly doing in his chest.

"Get on the bed," he said to Michael, and the younger man obeyed immediately, lying back and looking to Geoff, waiting for further instructions. Geoff joined him, straddling him, kissing him, enjoying him as if it was their last minute together. He broke after a moment, turning to his bedside table and fumbling through the contents of a drawer for a moment before he found lube and a package of condoms. He tore one off and then sat back on his heels, holding it up between them.

"Is this still something you want?" Geoff asked, dropping the scene for a moment.

Michael nodded. He didn't even hesitate.

"I can get us off just like this," Geoff offered, reaching down to stroke Michael's hardness between them. Michael moaned and arched up into Geoff's palm.

"No," Michael said once Geoff stilled his hand. "I want _you_ , Geoff."

Michael pressed up to catch his mouth in a kiss—and then both of them were back where they had been a moment before, no longer teacher and student.

"I need you, daddy," Michael said quietly when they broke.

His voice was gentle with an edge of desperation and it stoked something that Geoff could feel from the base of his belly to his balls. He groaned and kissed Michael again.

###

Michael had given up on keeping track of what was going on as Geoff kissed him. He closed his eyes and let Geoff continue controlling their momentum. As they kissed, Geoff opened the bottle of lube and after a moment Michael felt a hand snake between their bodies. With his free hand, Geoff hitched Michael's hips up, finally breaking their kiss and pressing a slicked digit up against Michael's entrance.

Michael opened his eyes to find Geoff gazing at him, looking almost concerned—as if he needed permission yet again or some sort of reassurance that yes, this is what Michael wanted.

Michael couldn't think of anything he wanted more than Geoff in that moment. He smiled and nodded, urging Geoff on. Geoff pressed in and was met with little resistance. Michael couldn't recall a time when he'd been _more_ relaxed.

He'd been all cock-centered for the past few minutes, but as Geoff fingered him, the axis of Michael's want shifted. He needed Geoff—his impossible, pierced cock, his hands on Michael, his slick mouth, he needed all of it and certainly he needed it faster than this slow pace Geoff was setting.

"Please," Michael breathed out. "More."

"I don't want to hurt you, baby."

"I know that, daddy," Michael said. "You won't."

Geoff nodded. "OK. I trust you baby."

He withdrew and, after a moment, pressed in another finger. It did a little to quiet the fluttering need that had materialized inside of Michael—but not enough. Michael rocked his hips experimentally, trying to gain leverage, still wanting more.

"I need you," Michael repeated.

###

It was almost impossible for Geoff to make himself be reasonable—not with two fingers in Michael's slick tightness, not with the younger man naked and begging for him, rutting down against Geoff's hand. It was maddening—the type of thing liable to make a man completely unravel and never come back to reality.

He let Michael beg for another minute, savoring the way the desperation edged into his voice. Perhaps, Geoff thought, he shouldn't get off on the complete control he had over Michael in that moment—but maybe that was where some of the appeal was of the whole scene for him.

He'd dealt with Michael whining and complaining in class, had listened to him make as many crude jokes and he had good points about the literature they were reading. But he'd only ever _imagined_ the way that his whines and moans might sound when he was like this, strung out and practically crying to be filled.

So it wasn't a cruel streak, exactly, that made Geoff drag out this part of it so long. Geoff just wanted to savor the moment of control, to remember Michael just like this.

"Please, daddy..."

Geoff pumped his fingers slowly, crooking them into the spot that he knew was just right. At the same time, he stroked one slicked hand around Michael's cock. Michael moaned in surprise, the sound almost outraged, his eyes squeezed shut and eyebrows knit with need.

"Oh my God, please..."

Geoff twisted around him, enjoying the way that Michael went tighter around his fingers at the stimulation.

"Daddy..."

Michael's voice took on a broken quality and Geoff looked up at his face again.

Michael's face was shockingly open, as if he was inviting Geoff to know everything there was to know about him. There wasn't a shred of clothing between them, but only now did Michael seem truly naked—as if there was some level of complete nudity that could only have been achieved in this one moment between them.

Michael’s sounds went high and broken. He squeezed his eyes shut and thrust into Geoff’s palm.

When Michael opened his eyes, they were glossy. A tear freed itself to roll down his cheek.

"I need you..."

The tear awakened something in Geoff, equal parts lovely and ugly. He had all the power in the world over his student in that moment, and he knew that he only wanted to use that power to make Michael feel good.

Was Michael always this vulnerable—this incredibly open—when he was in bed with someone or was this some sort of undeserved gift Geoff was receiving?

Another tear rolled down his cheek and he babbled, begging, whining.

"Color?"

"I'm fine, Geoff, I just _need_ you," Michael said, squeezing his eyes shut and shuddering. "Please..."

Geoff kissed the tear away from Michael's face.

“Please fuck me, daddy. I need it.”

Geoff shuddered and his cock throbbed. Finally, he gave in, pulling his hand away.

###

"Alright, baby," Geoff said. "I'm here for you."

Geoff's voice was smoky and sultry. It was the same raw-edged tone he used sometimes to read his favorite poems to his classes—and the gravelly sound of it made Michael think of the creosote and smokestacks from Philp Levine poems.

He would never hear the man read poetry aloud in the same light, that much was for sure.

Michael knew he should've been embarrassed about letting himself cry, but he wasn't. He'd never needed something so badly as he needed to be filled and fucked by Geoff in that moment. Geoff had created a space for him that was so safe, so accepting, that he didn't feel strange about letting the tears flow.

When the pressure of Geoff's fingers disappeared, Michael let out a sad, broken sound and sat up slightly. He watched Geoff as he tore open a condom with his teeth, an expression of intense concentration on his face as he worked. Geoff held himself by his base and a throb of want washed over Michael, seeing the man's tattooed hands as he rolled the condom onto his thick cock.

Then he was back, kissing Michael, reaching between their bodies to line them up. The sensation of his head against Michael's entrance had his heart beating hard and Michael savored the sweet moment-before-a-moment quality of it all, that very last second of deep want that was only made better by the knowledge that Geoff was finally about to be in him, fucking him.

Geoff kept the look of concentration on his face as he pressed in slowly, steadying himself with one hand and holding Michael's thigh with the other. He felt tremendous even after the prep they'd gone through, all of Geoff's slow care—but it wasn't too much, wasn't painful. As Geoff pressed in, pleasure radiated through Michael. Finally, finally he could feel a small shade of satisfaction.

Halfway through the first stroke, Geoff moaned, high and broken, and his mouth fell open as he looked down at Michael.

"Is it good, daddy?"

"God, Michael," Geoff breathed out. "The best. You're so fucking tight."

He sank in deeper, further than his fingers had gone, and Michael felt himself relaxing around Geoff's length. He couldn't feel the ring at all anymore and wondered if he would feel it at all after the first stroke.

And then finally Geoff was sheathed, his hips fitted up against Michael. He let some of his weight fall on Michael, and the reality of Geoff there, in bed with him, filling him up, was almost more than Michael could take. It felt so good and somehow so right to be there with him, to be under him, and Geoff above him made him more aware of his size, his narrowness there in the bed in comparison to Geoff.

"Are you OK, baby?" Geoff asked, pausing at the bottom of the stroke, maybe waiting for Michael to give him the go-ahead.

"I'm good—I'm perfect—"

"You are," Geoff said, shaking his head slightly. "You really are." A smile broke across his face, a pure white slash of happiness that sent a searing feeling through Michael's chest. Geoff was _so_ goddamn handsome—and he was here. He really was.

"Please, don't stop," Michael begged.

Geoff nodded, still smiling, and began to move his hips, withdrawing slowly and so far that Michael panicked and reached out to hold Geoff by the hips, not wanting him to pull out, not wanting to lose that sensation of fullness that he'd waited so long for. But Geoff didn't pull out, and at the last second he changed directions, rocking back into him.

Michael moaned when a strange sensation went through him, the incredible feeling of some additional ridge at his entrance. It took him a moment to realize he was feeling Geoff's cock ring again as he pressed in. It was novel and wonderful.

###

Geoff felt like he was in some sort of waking dream, as if everything was simply too good to be true. He wasn't going to be able to last long like this, stroking into the narrow body below him, watching the expressions of pleasure develop, appear, and then dissolve on Michael's face.

Geoff hadn't been lying before. It would've been easy enough to finish them both without any sex at all. Michael sucking him off enthusiastically had been enough to almost push him over the edge and this— _this_ was so much that all of his nerves seemed to be firing at random, everything on overdrive.

The most remarkable thing happened then: Michael started crying again.

"Are you—"

"It's so good, daddy," Michael said, his voice oddly thick because of the sheen of tears.

The sight of Michael strung out and blushing, crying, shouldn't have been as beautiful as it was. The whole picture was like something that belonged in a museum and it was difficult not to stop stroking into Michael and just sit there, admiring the way that fat tears freed themselves and rolled down his cheeks, creating twin tracks that shone in the dim light even as the tears disappeared under the crest of his jawline.

"Please, it's so good—"

Michael grabbed for Geoff's hips, encouraging him to continue. And so Geoff gave him what he wanted, still rolling his length into Michael as he tried to memorize the track of every droplet, the way that Michael's eyes flashed almost golden behind the gloss of tears.

###

It was the most incredible thing for Michael to be able to let go, to let himself be completely seen in that moment. He didn't have to worry about what Geoff would think of him. He didn't have to worry about what would come next. Geoff was there and he was taking perfect care of Michael.

Each stroke had Michael spiraling closer to his own orgasm. After all of the teasing, the rollercoaster of emotions he’d been through since he first got the text from Geoff, his release was closer than he wanted. Though he would never tell Geoff to slow down now that he was finally getting what he wanted, Michael was already lamenting the fact that soon it would all be over.

He didn’t want it to end. He didn’t want to let go of Geoff.

Michael grabbed him tighter, pulling Geoff down until the lengths of their bodies, their cheeks were pressed together. Geoff smelled like bourbon and lime and some musk that was all his own. Michael hissed as Geoff’s stubble scraped against his jaw, as the lengths of their skin slid against each other, and Geoff pulled back only long enough for Michael to have one glimpse of his sleepy blue eyes, half-wild and lit up with the type of passion that simply can’t be faked—and then he was kissing Michael again, crashing together with him as Geoff rocked his full length into Michael.

Michael groaned into their kiss, dragging fingernails down Geoff’s back, neither of them caring if he left a mark. His whole world was full up with Geoff and he didn’t want it to end.

He whimpered as Geoff slowed after a moment, sitting back and creating more space between their bodies.

“Please—”

“I can’t keep going like that baby,” Geoff said in a hoarse voice. “It’s too much—you’re too good.”

As much as Michael wanted the moment to last, his body cried out against the pause. They _had_ to keep going or he felt like his whole world was going to come apart.

“I need it,” he whined. “Please, don’t stop.”

“Are you ready to come?” Geoff asked.

Michael bit down hard on his bottom lip and nodded—was about to come just from the question itself. Geoff slipped his hand between their bodies, twisting around Michael’s cock as he started to fuck him again.

“Then come, baby,” Geoff said, a look of intense concentration on his face. “Be my good boy—come for me.”

The build of pleasure was abrupt, the sensation sizzling through him. It had barely taken one stroke, just a few words, and Michael knew he was far beyond the point of no return.

###

"Fuck—daddy— _Geoff_!"

Michael arched under him, his cock throbbing in Geoff's grip as he came up onto his chest in long ribbons.

Michael pulsed around him and Geoff didn't miss a beat, twisting around Michael's cock as he continued to come and matching the pace as Geoff stroked into him. Michael stopped making words, the sounds replaced by high moans and discarded halves of curse words as he throbbed and trembled.

Finally, Geoff stopped holding himself back. He kept his hand on Michael but increased the desperate pace of his hips, knowing he would only be seconds away from coming.

Michael's thighs shook and he seemed to come back to himself as Geoff wrung out the last bits of pleasure from his orgasm.

"Ah, I can't, it's so—" Michael stuttered, his hands fluttering lightly down to Geoff's as he continued to stroke his still-hard length.

"Do you want—"

"Don't stop," Michael said in a low voice. "Please, oh my God—"

He _wanted_ the overstimulation, Geoff realized. Even after his orgasm was over, it was getting Michael off. He whined under Geoff’s hands, begging him now to come too.

All it took was for Michael to utter the word _daddy_ again—and as if it was some vulgar password, it pushed Geoff over the edge. His orgasm came crashing over him, as if it originated at some point outside of himself, and the surge of pleasure felt surreal as he stroked into the shuddering body beneath him. Geoff could barely keep track of where he was as he rode the cresting waves of pleasure, one after another, still fucking Michael but kissing him too now, praising him, smoothing his hair as he rocked his hips and babbled to Michael that he was _so good, so perfect, such a good boy._

###

When they separated, they were both panting. Geoff fell heavily to his side, facing away from Michael.

Michael's heart sank. For a moment, he thought that would be it. Geoff would roll away and sit up, would get dressed and toss Michael's clothes at him.

They would part ways and in a few minutes, with Michael back in his car and Geoff alone in his apartment again, they would once again be nothing more than student and professor. The only thing that would change was the fact that they now shared a secret.

It wasn't rejection, of course. Michael had forced his way in and taken advantage of this situation. He'd gotten what he wanted—gotten to play the game with Geoff—and now it was over.

But that _wasn’t_ what happened.

Yes, Geoff rolled away and sat up.

But he didn't pull on any clothes. He stood up and crossed to the bathroom naked. Michael heard him run some water and he was back quickly, at Michael's side with a glass of water, a warm washcloth.

"Come on, baby," Geoff said, urging him to take a sip.

 _It's not over yet_ , Michael realized suddenly. Geoff didn't press the glass into his hand but instead held it up to his lips. Michael steadied the glass with one hand and sipped from it, appreciating the gentle way that Geoff tilted it for him to drink.

When he reached for the washcloth, Geoff batted him softly away. He swabbed off Michael's chest and belly and then rolled him, taking him firmly by one hip and guiding him until he was lying on his belly. Then he continued with the washcloth as he pressed kisses down Michael's spine.

"You're so perfect, baby boy," he said softly.

Michael let his mind drift as Geoff cared for him. Geoff left and returned again, this time with a fluffy towel to dry him and a small bottle of lotion. Michael watched as he warmed the lotion between his tattooed hands.

###

There was something so natural about caring for Michael—and there was something about this part that Geoff realized he enjoyed just as much as the sex, the raw power and want between them.

Michael didn't seem to be in discomfort from the spanking that had happened mid-session, but his ass was still bright pink when Geoff rolled him over. He smoothed lotion over the angry-looking skin, rubbing it in gently until it disappeared and then rubbing the leftover lotion up Michael's back.

He wondered how long Michael might want to stay and what might be next for the student. Did he have roommates back home who would be expecting him? Did he have tests to study for?

Geoff didn’t have a goddamn thing to look forward to for the rest of the night other than the stack of Intro to Lit papers that were waiting for him. The apartment felt so pleasantly lived-in when there was someone else around.

 _And Michael,_ he thought, _might be a good someone to have around more._

He stroked a hand down Michael’s spine and then stood again to put the lotion back where it belonged.

 _Maybe he’ll want to stay the night,_ Geoff thought with a throb of hopefulness.

The sex—and everything else—had been perfect and now Geoff wanted nothing more than to hold Michael close to his chest and not have to think about anything but the two of them.

###

Michael was drifting mindlessly when Geoff returned to the empty side of the bed, untucking it and getting under the sheet.

"Come on," he said softly, and Michael did, slipping between the top and bottom sheet.

He hadn't even gotten comfortable when Geoff was scooting to the center of the bed, pulling Michael towards him. Geoff tucked him into his chest and Michael relaxed against his body. He hadn't expected any of this—that Geoff would want to keep taking care of him, would want to hold him. The comfort he felt in Geoff's arms almost made his tears start flowing again. Instead, Michael fell into a light sleep.

###

Geoff waited for Michael to sleep before he let himself drift.

When he woke, it was because Michael was moving in his arms. The apartment was dark. Geoff reached to flick on the lamp. On the other side of the bed, Michael pressed the knuckles of one hand into his eye.

 _What happens now?_ Geoff wondered for what felt like the fiftieth time.

"How long were we out?" he asked after a dramatic yawn.

"I don't know," Geoff admitted. He hadn't even noticed what time Michael arrived. "Could've just been a few minutes."

It was odd to sit there with his student now that the scene was over and there was no artifice between the two of them.

It was odder still to realize that fucking Michael hadn’t lessened Geoff’s desire for him. If anything, he wanted Michael _more_ than he had before.

That was a frightening thought. Geoff was much more used to hooking up with someone he’d been attracted to only to realize when they woke up that all of the fun had been in the chase and none of it in a future together.

Michael leaned over the side of the bed, retrieving his jeans and finding his phone. He clicked it on and scrolled through notifications. Geoff waited for Michael to turn back with an excuse on his lips, a reason why he needed to get dressed and leave right away.

"It's been an hour and a half," Michael said. Geoff worried at first that he was upset he'd stayed so long, but when he turned to Geoff, Michael wore a grin on his face.

"That's the best I've slept in fucking years," Michael said. "I don't think I've ever been so relaxed."

Geoff snorted a laugh and smiled. "Does that mean you liked it?"

Michael rolled his eyes and fixed Geoff with a dubious look.

"Let's see... I got spanked for the first time in my adult life, called you 'daddy' about a thousand times, and came harder than I thought possible," he said, ticking off points on his fingers. "Nope. Hated it. Had an awful time."

Geoff laughed and after a minute, Michael did too.

"So what now?" Geoff asked.

###

Michael panicked for a moment.

 _Geoff_ was the one who was supposed to know what they were supposed to do now, wasn't he? Michael hadn't thought past the evening they would spend together. Did Geoff want to discuss, what, whether or not they would tell anyone? Whether or not this evening was going to have to be a total secret?

He didn't _want_ it to be a secret and suddenly Michael realized that he didn't want to get dressed and leave, either. He wanted to talk to Geoff about what had happened—what they'd both been through and whether or not it had been as profound for Geoff as it had for Michael.

Instead of answering Geoff's question, instead of telling him that he'd be happy to keep it all a secret and he'd never mention it to anyone, Michael kissed Geoff. He held the older man by the back of the neck and tried to communicate all of his anxieties, his worries, and his desire for more than just this one random hookup through that kiss.

Could Geoff tell how passionate he was about this? How he only wanted this to be the beginning of what they could explore together and not the end?

When they broke, Geoff gave him an odd look.

"What was that for?"

"I don't know," Michael admitted. "It was for... It was because I don't know what to say when you ask _what now_."

Geoff puffed a laugh through his nose and shook his head.

"I didn't mean..." Geoff started, moving his hand in the air as if he could find the right words there and grab them. "I mean, I meant... Hell, Michael, can you stay for dinner?"

The question caught him off guard and Michael laughed.

"Sure," he said. "Of course. Where do you want to go?"

"I could cook," Geoff offered.

" _You_ cook?" Michael asked, raising an eyebrow.

"What the hell does that tone mean, Jones?"

Michael snorted. "If you’re the one cooking, maybe I should rethink this. I mean, you _are_ the same guy who came to class with a button-down shirt on inside out."

Geoff frowned. "It was an honest mistake. That could happen to anyone."

"It wasn't even your first class of the day..."

"Jesus, a man can't make _one_ mistake in his life."

"There was also the time you spilled beer on the entire class's timed in-class essays and had to give everyone an A."

"What the fuck? You weren't even _in_ that class."

"No," Michael said, "but word travels fast."

“Just because I’m a human dumpster fire doesn’t mean I don’t know how to cook.”

“Then there was the time that you accidentally sent a dick pic to one of your students…”

Geoff snorted. “Sometimes my mistakes work out just fine.”

Michael rolled his eyes but couldn’t bite down a smile. He stood and pulled on his boxers. Geoff just sat there on the bed, staring at him.

“So, what’s for dinner?” he asked.

Geoff’s smile went crooked. “Does that mean you’ll stay?”

“I was just kidding before. Jesus,” Michael said, shaking his head. “If you think you can fuck me like that and then convince me to _leave_ , you’ve got a screw loose, professor.”

A look of relief flashed across Geoff’s face—just there long enough for it to register in Michael’s mind. But it _did_ register. His eyes were clear and the lines on his face softened, just for that moment, a micro-expression that Michael wouldn’t have noticed under other circumstances.

He looked untroubled and handsome and Michael could imagine what he might have looked like as a teenager, awkward and full of thoughts about poetry and dreams of tattoos. This was a Geoff he’d never considered before.

What else had he missed about Geoff? What other secret expressions existed that would only be for Michael, stolen moments that would’ve gone unappreciated without his company…

Suddenly, Geoff Ramsey was a vast landscape that Michael had only begun to map. Geoff Ramsey was someone with a childhood and a future, with dreams for his career and places he wanted to visit, a person with a favorite flavor of ice cream and a recurring nightmare that he couldn’t shake.

Michael wanted to know more—everything. Did Geoff like to swim in the summertime? Where had he grown up? Who had taught him how to cook? He wanted to know how Geoff spent his hours and what he looked forward to and what he dreaded.

What was it like to date your professor, he wondered. There had to be some sort of policy against that…

Michael was getting ahead of himself. He knew he was. But every aspect of what they’d shared together so far had spiraled out to be more—more than Michael had hoped for or imagined, and maybe more than Geoff had expected, too.

Clad only in his boxers, Michael returned to the bed, crawling into Geoff’s lap. The older man looked shocked that Michael continued to be affectionate, but as soon as he was within reach, Geoff looped his arms around him and pulled him in close to his chest.

When they kissed again, Geoff stroked his hand through Michael’s hair.

“That text was the best mistake of my whole dumb life,” Geoff said through a smile.  

“Yeah. I’m pretty glad you ordered that shitty bourbon,” Michael said, laughing.

“You sure you don’t mind staying?”

Michael eyed him, wondering what it was about Geoff that made him require so much reassurance. Whatever it was, Michael was happy to soothe those fears if it meant they could spend more time together.

“Yeah, definitely sure. I’m already picking out baby names and wedding flowers with you in my head,” Michael admitted, immediately regretting the joke as soon as it was out of his mouth.

Geoff didn’t shy away, though, or frown at the suggestion that Michael might want a _lot_ more from him than dinner.

Instead, he held Michael by the hips, looked him straight in the eye, and said, “Good.”

Pleased, Michael planted a kiss on his nose and then separated from him, returning to the edge of the bed to pull on his shirt. They dressed in silence and when they turned to each other again, it would’ve been hard to tell from looking at them what had just transpired.

Geoff stepped around the bed and pulled Michael into a hug.

 _I could get used to this much affection,_ Michael thought, fighting a smile.

“Ranunculus.”

“What?” Michael asked.

“For the wedding,” Geoff said with a crooked grin. “I’ve always had a soft spot for ranunculus flowers.”

When Michael kissed him again, he had to stand on his tiptoes.

 _Every part of this,_ Michael thought. _I could get used to it all._

 


End file.
